


Tease

by jillyfae



Series: Incorrigible [6]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 9,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short pieces, memes, and AU prompts for Ella Shepard and Joker; some together, some before the game timeline, etc. etc. </p><p>With an <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/899205/navigate">index</a>, even.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ficlet memes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dumping ground for the little tiny prompts ... ^_~

> _prompted by[emby](http://spiritofemby.tumblr.com): "F!Shep/Joker, Bows. Undressing, preferably. ;D"_

She had an old-fashioned set of mess dress blues, a tuxedo cut coat and a long slim skirt instead of the long jacket and trousers most people wore.

He didn’t hear a word of her speech at the reception, or anyone else’s, his attention entirely caught by the curve of her hips and ass when she stood, the glimpse of leg behind the slit of her skirt as she walked, smooth and dark and strong.

For once he wasn’t even sure he wanted to take it off of her right away, or if he wanted to run his hands down her curves, make her stretch and purr, and think about the slide of all that cloth against her skin.

* * *

> [akuracain](http://akuracain.tumblr.com): For a prompt: How about Ella and Joker and if they could have one wish what would it be?"

_They’re mostly pretty content in life, actually, I couldn’t think of anything. *laughs*_

***

"I want to retire. Learn how to make my own boots. No more getting shot at."

"But that would also mean much less getting to be the one shooting back. And the same sky every morning. And dealing with me _being grounded_."

"Huh. That sounds awful."

* * *

> [yarnandtea](http://yarnandteaisallineed.tumblr.com): Oooh. Joker and Ella. Regency era party?

He hated these things, him and his bones, always on display, always watched, always talked about, but almost never talked _to_. Occasionally a neglected or jilted lady would sit beside him and pretend to make polite conversation, but the only thing he hated more than being ignored was being pitied.

This new lady, though, she’d turned down every invitation, and sat beside him instead, rolling her eyes and sighing, " _dear lord_ , please have a flask hidden in that fancy jacket or I’ll never make it to dinner."

* * *

> a kiss meme prompt from [yarnandtea](http://yarnandteaisallineed.tumblr.com/)

"You’re an idiot."

"But I’m your idiot."

"Yes, yes you are."

And she wasn’t quite laughing, but it was close, so close, and he grinned, and she leaned in close, and their lips brushed, ever so softly, before she had to pull back, and let one quiet laugh free into the air between them. 

"My very favorite idiot, ever."

* * *

> "before the beginning" prompted by [vieralynn](http://vieralynn.tumblr.com/) for a WIP meme on tumblr

There was blood caught in the seam of the cover of her shotgun, dark blood, just enough to catch, to stop it from retracting so she could clip it securely to the weapons rack.

Too dark for human.

She tried not to smile as she sat at the bench, carefully, slowly, getting all that was left of a batarian squad out of her kit.


	2. Sailing Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An age-of-sails-ish AU, requested by [chignon](http://chignonesque.tumblr.com); besides the obvious Ella/Joker pairing, there's some Alenko/Cortez in the background.

Sha'ira's was generally empty, this time of the morning. Or so Ella had thought, 'til she strode slowly past the double doors, boots tapping on the wooden walkway, and heard the faint sweet sound of music.

There was no one doing anything in town, as far as she could tell, and Williams was overseeing the last of the cargo, so it really couldn't hurt if she just took a quick listen, now could it?

 _Even I'm not buying that excuse._ Ella snorted softly to herself as she pushed the doors wide and stepped inside, just far enough for them to swing shut behind her again.

The place was empty. The bar gleaming, the glass behind it shining, the sunlight pouring through thick glass golden enough to make the air seem almost solid enough to swim through.

Not that Ella gave two fucks about the sunlight, she was watching the piano player.

She could see the rough line of his hair along the back of his neck as he leaned in close to the keys, only a shade darker than the old leather of the vest across his shoulders.

She could never get enough of his _hands_ , the way they danced across the keys, up and down and around each other, enough she was sure they were about to get tangled or his thumb would slip off the edge... but it never happened. Not once, in three years, had he missed a note.

And she'd certainly been watching.

"Captain." His head tilted sideways, but his fingers didn't stop, and he didn't turn away from the keys.

"Joker." He looked different somehow in the warm morning light, a quiet room rather than the usual rowdy crowd of sailors. _Both of us sober might make a difference too?_

She smiled slightly, feeling her lips curve up on the left side as she collapsed onto a barstool, elbow braced on the bar as she listened. And kept watching, enjoying the shift of arms beneath his shirtsleeves, the uneven scruff of his beard along his jaw and neck.

Mornings were surprisingly nice here. Ella usually wasn't awake this time of day to appreciate them, but she'd had to go sign paperwork at the harbor master's office.

She usually made Alenko do it. Best first mate she'd ever had, and better at crossing every t and dotting every i than any man she'd ever met.

But she'd sent Alenko home, as he hadn't seen Cortez in close to a moon. The last run had taken a little longer than planned.

Well, she'd tried, and he'd murmured politely about finishing his job. And then Williams had informed him she'd start asking about their favorite sexual positions if she saw him any time in the next two days, and Alenko had blushed and fled while the fleeing was good.

And now, not only was Alenko actually taking a break, she was listening to Joker play some pretty song she'd never heard before, lilting and dancing through the air. Full bars tended to call for louder stronger melodies.

It was a good morning.

Too bad she couldn't fit a piano and a ramp in her quarters. She'd be tempted to ask him to come sail the seas with her otherwise.

The song came to an end, one last trill of white keys and fingers.

_Though that might be an awkward question, as I've never even asked the man on a date._

"Got a rather... delicate question for you, Joker."

"Since when have you been delicate, Shepard?"

Ella rolled her eyes as Joker grinned at her, a flash of green eyes from under his eyebrows. "Since never, that's my problem."

"Join me for a drink, then?" He shoved unevenly against the wheels of his chair, managing to push away from the piano and turn towards the bar in one smooth arc.

"If I say something horribly insulting under the influence of whisky, you are not allowed to be mad at me then, as it was your idea."

Joker just laughed, that low chuckle that made her stomach tighten, and her face smile, no matter what she'd been thinking about a moment before. As she'd been rather wondering about what he looked like with his pants off, the combination made her grateful once again she didn't have to worry about blushing like Alenko did every time someone teased him about his husband.

"I was aiming for the coffee pot myself. Little early even for us, I would've thought."

Ella snorted. "Who knew. A respectable suggestion."

"I try occasionally." He reached under the counter to pull out a pair of mugs. "Keeps people guessing about my motives."

"But now you're telling me your secret?"

"Babe, you can have any secret of mine you want." Unlike his previous grin, this time his smile was a little crooked, slow and almost hidden in the shadows behind the bar.

She felt that smile like a kick to the chest, her fingers suddenly tightening, wishing for a rope to grab and balance on, the floor of the bar oddly unsteady beneath her, worse than the deck of her ship ever was. "Show me where your bedroom is?"

He froze, and she swallowed, hard, wondering if she should have kept her mouth shut. "That's not a secret." He pushed, just a little, a slight shift of his chair, a slight shrug of his shoulders before he lifted his head to look at her directly. "But you're welcome to a grand tour. If you've got the time?"

"Williams has the deck 'til tomorrow." She could feel the weight of her eyelids when she blinked, a short dark moment away from that _green_. "I'm all yours."


	3. which end is up?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [teleutelilybloom](http://teleutelilybloom.tumblr.com/) requested Ella Shepard and an 'accidental baby' for an AU meme on tumblr...

"What?" Ella stared in surprise at the warm bundle Chakwas and just dropped into her arms. 

"There's no one here familiar enough with human physiology, we'll have to take him with us."

There'd only been a small human contingent on the local colony. None of whom was in any state to take in an orphaned child as they rebuilt after the raiders' attack.

"What?" The boy in her arms was, thankfully, fast asleep, so he wasn't scared off by the wide eyed panic she could feel spreading visibly across her face.

Joker snickered softly behind her. "I'd rescue you, as you so obviously need it, but if I do that it'll take us even longer to get to Elysium. Figure it out babe. Don't worry, babies are tougher than they look." He kissed her gently on the cheek and escaped the medbay before she managed to say anything.

Which said more about her state of mind than anything else, as he wasn't hurrying.

"What?" She looked up at Chakwas again, and didn't even care as the doctor smothered obvious laughter into her palm. "I had an older brother. And no one trusted me alone with little children after the time I made all my schoolmates swords out of sticks and we broke the couch. And that was twenty years ago. Help?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my personal head canon, Ella does eventually get over the 'which end is up?' reaction to babies, and she and Joker tend to pick up strays all over the galaxy. Because they've been strays, obviously. <3 And she teaches them to fight and Joker teaches them to fly and she teaches them to cook and he teaches them how to smile when the latest cooking lesson goes horribly wrong and dinner doesn't actually look like food, and it's highly adorable, and then they help them find a decent foster home somewhere so they get a proper education and learn how to at least pretend to be civilized, but they're always welcome back aboard if they need a break or a trip or a rescue or an adventure.


	4. regency in spaaace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jane Austen-esque AU of Mass Effect?"
> 
> requested by [yarnandteaisallineed](http://yarnandteaisallineed.tumblr.com/)

They may have forced her through all the necessary training to behave herself in public as part of the Academy regimen. And being an officer was _technically_ enough to be considered a legitimate member of polite society.

But there was no way four years of Commander's Dinners could compare to a lifetime in the nobility, and she knew it. She hated all those _eyes_ on her. Judging. Snickering.

Anderson wouldn't let her avoid the latest round of Balls, however, docked as they were at the Citadel during the height of the Season.

It always seemed to be the Season, everywhere she landed. 

_I have awful timing. Stupid local calendars. All mixed up._

Pressley had, of course, been ready to go for a good ten minutes, trousers pressed and buttons shined and ribbons all in a row.

She was still scowling at her hair, which rather wanted to fly straight up in the air instead of sort-of settling properly around her head.

At least she got to drag Alenko and Moreau with her. Officers. Just as doomed as she was. She couldn't quite swallow the grin as she wondered if they were as bad at the social graces as she was. Considering Alenko's reserve and Moreau's foot-in-mouth disease, it was possible they were even worse.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all?


	5. delinquent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High School AU via tumblr prompt-meme ... kinda violent. Mentions blood. Ella had some issues as a teenager.

The new girl was smoking hot.

Fucking crazy, too, but he didn’t have a problem with crazy.

Shepard had been greeted by the usual rich-bitch-clique on her first day, and had slammed Marisa’s head into the doorframe so hard they’d had to close the main entrance to clean up the blood.

Not that Marisa didn’t deserve it, always making sure other people got into trouble for her schemes and walking away with her hair still pretty.  And hell, now Marisa had a literally swelled head to go along with her ego, and just in time for picture day, too.

He was pretty sure he’d fallen in love right then, to be honest.  Violent was usually bad, what with him being extra-fragile and it being hard to dodge while in a wheel-chair, but she seemed to aim the violent at the extra-deserving, so that really was kind-of a turn on for once.

_I’m fucking crazy too, obviously?_

‘Rik was a creep, after all, probably tried a grope or two while he was sounding her out to see ifhe could get that temper of hers working with the  _Reds,_  and it wasn’t like broken wrists didn’t heal.

But for all he enjoyed the show, if she got herself involved in too much more bloodshed she’d get herself expelled, and then there wouldn’t be any show at all for him to watch.

Maybe he could get her to skip with him this afternoon, take a long lunch, maybe some smokes, keep them both out of trouble?

He wouldn’t try to kiss her though.  She probably break his whole damn body, rather than just his wrist.

_Might be worth it?_

Maybe wait to see if he managed an actual date, first.


	6. Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by [sia](http://siawrites.tumblr.com/): Ella visiting Meg's grave. Go on... make me sob.
> 
> So, I guess, it's an AU of our [AU](http://archiveofourown.org/series/35975), where once upon a time there were multiple Shepards, but they didn't all make it.

She didn't want to be here.

This wasn't a here that was supposed to exist.  Not for at least another hundred years.

_And, really, not even then, I was going to die first for once, goddamnit._

If she had to be here, she wanted Lex to be here, a hand to hold, a familiar voice to hear beside her, but she'd been shipped off on her diplomatic tour before ... well, just before.  Hadn't made it back yet.

Ella probably wouldn't have come either, not yet, might have chickened out and waited until after their next patrol, but every morning Joker asked if she wanted him to drive her, so she wouldn't have to deal with a cab or a train, and it got harder and harder to meet his eyes when she said no.

So she stopped saying no, and called Garrus to ask if they could pick him up on the way.

She needed the escort, and he needed something, though she doubted this was it.  He wasn't any better at mourning than the rest of them, especially now, when she'd finally been safe.

_Meg survived the Reds and the Alliance and geth and Saren and god-forsaken thresher maws and you just had to drag some poor dumb kid out of a hovercar crash._

_Probably made a stupid joke too, right before it blew up._

The echo of Meg's voice in her head was too much to bear, and Ella closed her eyes, no longer looking at the newest metal plaque in the Citadel's version of Arlington, the one with a familiar name and rank inscribed beneath the flashy outline of the Citadel that was given to Spectres, the even more familiar birth-date right beside the date of death that Ella was trying to ignore.

Meg hadn't had a clue when she was actually born, had made something up for the recruiter.  Which they'd eventually learned was the same date as Ella's birthday.  If she hadn't been so very fucking blond, it might have earned them some twin cracks throughout the years.

Ella felt more than heard the slightest shift beside her, and forced herself to open her eyes, ignoring the shimmer of moisture making everything blurry.  "You alright Garrus?"

The noise the turian made was almost a grunt, and almost a sigh, and almost a swear word, and was certainly better than she deserved for asking such a stupid question.  He hadn't moved right when he'd walked her to the grave, his limbs too tight and his neck and mandibles too stiff, his usual graceful stalking lost to the stress of holding himself together.

"Sorry."  She sniffed, tried to shrug it off.  "God, I'm glad I missed the funeral.  How awful was it?"

"Very."  Garrus' voice twanged sharply, up and down both in a singularly turian sort of dismay, before he swallowed and tried again.  "Udina spoke at it."

Ella's elaborate shudder was only half melodrama.  "She would've hated that."

"Anderson did too."  That time his voice was softer, the dual tones easing together, just a little.

"She would've liked that."

He made that dreadful painful snorting sound again, and _oh,_ it felt like the crack in her heart when she'd heard the news on her way back from a patrol for geth with the  _Normandy._  "I'm pretty sure she's too pissed at being dead to like anything."

Ella managed a painful almost laugh at that, though she had to cut it short when she felt her breath try to change it into a sob.  "Yeah, pretty sure she's furious about that."  Ella swallowed, trying to think how to say what came next, eyeing the shadows in Garrus' eyes.  "She's be even more furious to see you blaming yourself, you know."

He went suddenly, startlingly still, his mandibles so tight she wouldn't have been surprised to hear them crack before he managed to take his next breath.  

"I'm an expert at survivor's guilt.  Lots of experience."  If he was human she might have risked touching him, a hand on his shoulder, _something._  But she wasn't sure if it would help, so instead she felt her fingers curl in on themselves by her sides.  "Everyone dies.  It is not your fault."

He shook his head, just a little, and for all he made his body relax, the darkness in his eyes didn't shift, and she knew he didn't believe her.  His job to keep an eye on her while she made nice with C-Sec and the politicians.  His job to keep her safe. 

His failure when she wasn't, never mind Meg never let anyone keep her safe.

Not that he'd let that stop the guilt.  Just because he'd let her stay in his spare room 'til she found a place of her own.

 _If she ever would've bothered._  Meg hating living by herself, had never successfully done it for more than an hour or two.  She never had learned to deal with the quiet.

There was nothing but quiet, now.

_Please Mama, take care of her.  Make sure she's not stuck somewhere dark or silent for too long._

Ella could feel the heat of her tears on her cheeks, a drip hanging off her chin, not quite ready to fall, and ducked her face down to scrub it dry on her sleeves.

"Recommend any good dry-cleaners?"  She managed to almost sound like herself again, though her voice was thick as she stared at the mess of snot and tears rubbed into the fabric beside her shirt-cuffs.  

The twang of Garrus' smothered laugh was easier to bear than the previous snort, and she managed a wobbly smile at him as he shook his head.  "Yeah, I know a few.  C'mon then."

They were almost back to Joker and the car, their footsteps not quite in sync, before she managed to speak up again.  "Thank you."

He shrugged one shoulder.  

"Wanna get stupid drunk with us at Flux tonight?"

He managed another almost laugh, and nodded.  "Why not."


	7. respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [sia](http://siawrites.tumblr.com/) requested "collarbone kiss" via a tumblr prompt kiss meme

He was still wearing his PTs, sprawled across the bed, a pillow covering his head and his arms up and over the pillow, making his shirt rise up past his hips, revealing a thin line of pale skin and a tease of brown hair from the dip of his navel down to his shorts.

Normally she’d have gone straight for that glimpse of skin, mouth or hands or just the hint of nails to make the muscles in his stomach jump beneath her touch.

But his physio had been hours ago, and she’d never actually seen him wearing PTs outside of a gym or a physical therapy appointment.

"Bad day?"

She barely heard the grunt from under the pillow.

She sat down on the bed beside him, and saw his arms tighten.  Not much, just the slightest shift beneath the skin, an almost shiver in the pillowcase.

She could see him swallow as she leaned in closer, the bed shifting beneath her weight, but rather than fighting with the pillow she let her fingers catch against the stretched out hem of his collar, pulled ever so slightly, smiling as she recognized the shirt with the tear in the neck, conveniently giving her a bit more leeway, and leaned in to kiss the jutting edge of his collarbone. 

His chin jerked up, and she switched to the opposite collarbone to kiss him again.

His elbows relaxed, easing just a bit further apart, and she let her lips linger against his skin as she kissed the hollow in the center of his throat.

She heard him sigh, one arm slowly leaving the pillow to rest his hand on her head, fingers catching slightly on her hair as they stroked.

"Better?" She whispered.

She heard the fabric of the pillow case rub against his face as he nodded, shadows from his jaw shifting across his neck.  She lifted her chin, just enough to kiss the edge of the shadow, to feel the hair of his beard against her lips, and then she rolled off to the side.

"Shower?"

His grunt was a much clearer  _mm-hmm_ this time, and she smiled as she walked back up the stairs to the bathroom.

He’d join her when he was ready.


	8. shore leave?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [shenzi](http://shenzi123.tumblr.com/) requested "kiss in the rain"

When the first drop hit his nose, Joker pretended he hadn’t noticed it. Willful denial seemed perfectly reasonable.

After the second, and the third, he pushed his sunglasses down his nose and lifted his chin to glare up over them at the sky.

_No._

_Stop that._

The sky ignored him.

"This is why I live on a spaceship."

No answer.

His shoulders hunched, trying not to scowl, he turned to apologize,  _here we finally took some shore leave and it’s raining on us, who wants rain on the beach,_  but he stopped before he started, his breath escaping him in a sigh.

Ella’s head was back, her eyes closed, her body loose in a way he didn’t think he’d ever seen before, smiling as drops hit her face and her shoulders, as water started to trail down her chest to disappear beneath her dress.

He suddenly found himself remarkably fond of rain.

"Some vacation, huh?"

She heard him that time, opening her eyes and turning her face to look at him, arms stretching out to the sides as she laughed.  "Can’t remember the last time I felt rain on my skin."

"Most people seem to think avoiding rain’s a good thing."  He stepped up closer, smiling, even as he felt the water start to trickle down the back of his neck.   _Tickles, I suppose._

"Most people are dull," she whispered, and he closed his eyes as her nose bumped against his.  He felt her breath as she tilted her head, and her lips touched his, warm and soft and slow.


	9. ayurnamat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ayurnamat_ \- The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed.
> 
> prompted for Ella/Joker by [ididntchoosethenerdlife](http://ididntchoosethenerdlife.tumblr.com/)

"Are we going to have to pay for that?" Joker turned to look at her, the overly plaintive note in his tone belied by the smirk crossing his face.  "Because Cerberus sort of took all their money back so I don’t have any."

Ella snorted.  Her assets were all frozen because she was still technically  _dead._

"Do you think if we just leave quietly out the back we can get away again before they notice?"

"When have we ever managed to leave anywhere quietly?"

"Point."

"Shit."

Joker laughed.

"Shut up."

"Never, babe."

She laughed at that, at last, feeling the tension across her shoulders ease.

He lifted his eyebrows, a flash of green catching the light before he grinned back. ”If we’re going to get in trouble  _anyways_ , don’t you think we should make it worthwhile?”

”You wanna see how much damage we can  _really_  do?”

"Hell, yes."


	10. cream cheese frosting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Sia prompted](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/82597992432): Because I always want more Ella.... The first birthday she can remember.

The first birthday she can remember isn’t even hers, it was Robert’s, and she had thrown a fit because she couldn’t blow out the candles on the cake, or take a turn opening the presents;  _but we always take turns Mama, it’s my turn, he already had a turn, he already had a bunch o’turns, Mama, he’s not shaaaaring._

She couldn’t understand that it was  _his day,_ not hers.

Or she had choosen not to; she can’t remember why, anymore, but she vaguely recalled she’d been mad at him about something he’d done the day before, ruined some ridiculous and grand five-year-old adventure with his giant almost-ten-year-old feet.

She’d stomped around in the way long enough and loudly enough that she got sent to her room, exiled from the games outside.  She’d flung herself across her bed, and scowled at the ceiling, and tried to pretend she didn’t care.

She’d even plugged her ears and hummed tunelessly when Papa started singing, so she could pretend she wasn’t missing the music.

She’d ignored it when Mama came and tried to call her down for some dinner later, after most of Robert’s friends had left, just a couple still there to spend the night, quieting down outside, sprawled across sleeping bags and pillows, listening to music and watching the lines of light in the distance that signified the traffic from the spaceport.

At the time, Robert had wanted to be a pilot when he grew up, and his two best friends were equally space-mad, all of them trying to decipher the make and model of the spaceships just by the size and speed of their light trails, coming and going across the starlit sky.

She’d almost been asleep, still sniffling softly, when Robert himself had slipped in, dropped a slice of cake on her night-table, stuck his tongue out her, grinned, and slipped out again, the door latching softly behind him.

She’d scowled.  Robert had asked for spice cake instead of chocolate.

Chocolate was so much better.

When she got to pick the cake, she always got chocolate.

But it still smelled pretty good.

She’d sat up.

She’d glared at the cake some more, as only a five year old could glare, her whole body leaning into it, not just her eyes.

She’d never really made the decision, not until after it was already in her mouth, and she’d closed her eyes, lost in the way the creamy frosting softly eased the spice lingering on her tongue.

It had been so good.

She’d sighed, wondering if maybe she’d ask Mama how to make it, next time someone asked for cake, maybe with some dark chocolate frosting, maybe she could give Robert a piece then too … 

_Maybe._

Ella doesn’t know why she’s remembering this now, of all times, staring at the can of cream cheese frosting on the shelf as she’s shopping for supplies for Gardner, and she doesn’t need it, she doesn’t have the ingredients to make anything to put it on, not really, but she grabs it anyways, and adds it to the trolley.


	11. quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a _make me choose_ meme response for [servantofclio](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/88674586710)

He knew how to be quiet.

Almost everyone else she knew talked too much, especially to  _The Butcher,_  as if afraid of what she’d do in that heavy stillness between their words.

But he didn’t.

She knew that wasn’t something anyone else ever realized, distracted by the rolling eyes and the smart-ass commentary, but when there was nothing to be said, he kept his mouth shut.

He’d bump her shoulder when an old vid reminded her suddenly of her family, and her eyes were hot enough the image turned blurry, but he never tried to tell her everything would be fine, or ask her what was wrong.

He knew some things never quite healed the same as they’d been, before they’d broken.

Too many things broken over the years.


	12. spaghetti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "spine kiss" [prompted](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/92583820236) by sia ... and I dipped briefly back into another prologue? I just really adore Ella's family.

She’d dropped her ‘pad on the floor, eyes rolling as none of the books or games or vids on it were even the tiniest bit interesting, and is draped head-first out of her chair, the world upside down as she sighs, and sighs again.

_booored_

Robert’s at Siddig’s house, building something for their science project, and for all they claim it’s something different everyone knows it’s gonna be a spaceship again.

It’s always a spaceship.

 _Space mad,_  Siddig’s dad calls them, sighing and shaking his head and smiling, just a little. Siddig’s mom’s smile is always a little sad there, as if she’s already saying good-bye.

Ella can’t wait ‘til they leave. Get her house to herself for a few years ‘fore she graduates.

In  _ten years_.

Her sigh is a bit more audible this time.  Her shoulders slip with the force of it, and she has to grab the arm of the chair so she doesn’t slide too far and hit her head on the floor.

She has no idea how she’s going to survive the next ten  _minutes_ , she’s clearly going to die before ten years goes by.

If she’s stuck at home with nothing to do, someone should at least make some food before she  _starves._

Mama is ignoring her, singing softly to herself as she does something in the kitchen, but it doesn’t smell like tomato sauce, so that’s kinda terrible.

She could be making  _anything._  Sometimes Mama makes things that shouldn’t be food, and then she just  _laughs_  when Ella and Robert don’t want to eat it.

_Not making you something else, my little ducklings._

Ella wants spaghetti.

She’s pretty sure she’s not getting spaghetti.

She hears the back door squeak, but no clumping or shouting, so Papa’s home already, not Robert. _  
_

She considers getting up to say hi, but that sounds _hard_. She might run out of energy and  _faint_  or something, like those ladies in the old vids they show at the community center sometimes.

She sighs again, and closes her eyes, and finally manages to convince her hand to scratch at an itch at the base of her braids, and sighs again, though it’s more ‘cause it feels nice than anything else.

Mama’s song stops, and Papa’s saying something, though she can’t hear what, so she opens her eyes, and he’s sliding behind Mama, his voice a soft murmur as his hand moves across her back and he leans in to drop a kiss on the bump where her back meets her neck, right above her collar, and Mama hums something, low and laughing, and Ella groans, and shuts her eyes again.

_Parents._

Worse than brothers, sometimes.

Does no one care that she’s  _starving?_


	13. grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [thank you kit, you make the best suggestions](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/92604388640)

Joker hated being grounded.  

Especially back on Earth.

For all the usual pilot reasons, going stir crazy and no real way to express it, (and they wouldn’t even let him drive himself to lunch occasionally!), but he had the added bonus of  _weather._

Weather was almost enough to make him believe in a vengeful god.

Almost.

He missed stations and ships, with their nice regulated temperatures and humidity.

Every single morning when he woke up, his bones hurt in new and fascinating ways, depending on the rain, or the wind, or the  _air pressure._  

Air pressure wasn’t supposed to be a thing, unless you ran out of it and were dying.

He’d make a joke about dying being better, but if Shepard ever heard it she’d hit him and remind him that he was full of shit.

Which he was.

Even more than usual.

But how cheerful would you be if it kind of ached to wiggle your toes, and that was the best that could be said of  _yet another day of rain?_

At least it wasn’t freezing rain anymore.

He was afraid to walk in that.  People with normal bones fell and broke things on ice.  

He was getting really sick of the dfac.

He was getting really sick of  _everything._

And he couldn’t even whine at EDI, cause she was still pretending to be a VI.

And no one would let him talk to Shepard.

Or call his folks, beyond a brief text message letting them know he was “fine” and “assigned” to Vancouver.

Even Hilary knew better than to fall for that line of bullshit, and she was pretty damn straightforward for a teenager.

Fuck, he knew it was bad when he missed  _Hilary_  and her ability to take every damn thing he said literally.

Couldn’t quite dare let himself miss Shepard, after all.

Not ‘til he was safe and snug in his blankets and the lights were off and he didn’t have to worry about what his face was doing.

The end of the galaxy on the way, and she had to go and turn herself in, and he had to go and follow along with her, and now they neither of them had anything to do but wait.

And get rained on.

And not fly.

And go through way the fuck too many analgesics.

_Pair of right fucking idiots, that’s us._

He hated being grounded.


	14. coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Cori asked for practical jokes](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/92588715731) ... and got music and sadness instead. I am terrible at this prompt-fill concept sometimes. (sorry)

The first time she heard him sing, it was an old child’s folk song, soft and breathy, a smile shared in the mess in the middle of the night over something that was almost warm milk, a moment that almost felt like family, a moment that definitely seemed a dream the next morning.

The second time was the middle of a particularly quiet shift, and for all he had to have heard her approaching the cockpit, he didn’t let that stop him, finished his string of not-quite-nonsense, scat singing along with whatever was playing through his headphones, and she was forced to be slightly impressed by the quality of his rhythm and tone.

Not that she told him that. Had enough ego for two (or five?) people already.

He made her listen to old radio signals, whenever he picked them up on shift. Did a passable air guitar along with most of them, no matter how obscure or alien the song. 

Radio had apparently been a communications development for a hell of a lot of races throughout history. Turian was pretty incomprehensible. Not nearly as martial as she’d expected. Asari was immediately recognizable; they didn’t seem to have changed much over the millenia. That probably said something profound, about someone. Possibly her, and her lack of musical sophistication.

Air guitar and asari wind instruments did not go together particularly well, but he kept it up anyways.

She idly wondered if he could play an actual instrument; not so idly imagined pilot’s hands and a jazz keyboard.  And then promptly pretended she’d had no such thoughts at all.  

Likely to get her in trouble.

She’d still thought she wasn’t in trouble.

Sometimes she was kind of stupid. Or possibly just exquisitely good at denial.

The third time, he wasn’t so much singing as encouraging the drunken shouting chorus of the rest of the crew, taking over Flux on the one decent leave they’d managed to grab while hunting Saren.

He wasn’t drinking though. He almost never drank, never let the sharp glint of his eyes ease. Never lost control.

Almost never.

There was a catch in his voice that fourth and final time, singing a beautiful old sailor’s lament after Virmire, the whole crew quiet as they listened, as they mourned.

She never did quite get around to asking him what it was called, or where or when he’d learned it.

But she managed to wonder, in that last wide-eyed glimpse of him, as the  _Normandy_  fell apart around them, if he’d sing it again for her.


	15. treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a halloween prompt from tumblr, for [shenzi](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/99121475753)

He'd never really been that interested in food. Had to eat, sometimes just to keep the meds down. 

Had to learn not to eat, too, to keep different meds down. Or just to avoid puking on a senior officer's boots. For some reason they didn't like it when you did that.

Had to keep track of both, and pretend it was easy, or get lectured  _yet again_ by the latest specialist skimming through your chart about how important it was to meet the caloric requirements for your condition and your occupation.

Doctors were assholes.

Most people were assholes, really, but you had to be a special brand of sadistic to be a doctor, in his experience.

Perhaps he was a cynic.

Didn't make him wrong.

_I'm never wrong, come on, I know that._

Joker rolled his eyes, shifting against the paper cover beneath him as he waited for the newest head-case to come poke at him to clear him for his next posting.

Not that he knew what his next posting even  _was;_  it was classified way the hell up the food chain.

Which just made him want it more of course. Pretty sure his CO knew that; she'd had a disturbingly bright glint of humor in her eyes when she sent him to medbay.

"Flight-Lieutenant Moreau?" The doors had barely whisked open before she started talking, and he tried  _really hard_ not to roll his eyes again. One of the extra impatient  _in a hurry_ ones. Fuck yeah, that was all he needed.

"In the flesh." He wondered how long he could drag out the pause before she'd sniff at him for the insubordination. Probably not a good idea to piss the doctor off even sooner than usual? "Ma'am."

He was startled to see her lips curve into a smile, eyes bright and observant as she lifted her gaze up to meet his. "Doctor Chakwas, at your service." She shifted her data-pad and let her hands drop to her sides, a flicker of her eyes making it clear that she was assessing him. He couldn't tell what her conclusions were. "Lieutenant."

He surprised himself by grinning at that. She'd paused even longer than he had. Smart-ass doctor.

"I apologize for wasting your time today, Lieutenant," he blinked, but she kept on going before he could comment on the novelty, "because you've had every stress test known to man and alien and Alliance protocols, so you're clearly fit for duty. But said Alliance does like its red tape, and they want a baseline for me to use to monitor your condition," she rolled her eyes, clearly quoting someone else rather than using her own choice of words, someone whose intelligence hadn't apparently impressed her much, "during your next posting."

She waited, as if expecting some sort of response. He wasn't sure what. Was he waiting for him to agree? Not like he had much choice, if he wanted to keep doing what he was doing.

"Joker," he said instead, feeling another grin tug at his lips as she lifted a single eyebrow, sharp and questioning. "If you're going to be prodding at me every week for the data files, might as well call me Joker. Most everyone else does."

"Joker, then." She nodded, the sleek curve of her bobbed grey hair shifting gracefully with the movement. "Shall we get started?"

"Sure thing, Doc." His stomach chose that moment to gurgle at them, a reminder of the lunch he hadn't had yet.

Her smile sharpened. "And if you're a very good boy, I might even give you a treat when we're done." She tilted her head. "I have lollipops in the drawer over there, you know. If you promise not to fuss."

_Oh yes, smart-ass doctor, I think I like her._

"I dunno, Doc, I'm good at fussing. It's hard to give it up."

"Try."

"Yes, ma'am."

Her smile softened unexpectedly, and she patted his hand as she walked over to her desk to put her 'pad down. 

Huh.

Maybe this next posting was going to be even better than he'd hoped.

That'd be a nice change.


	16. broken road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [for crisium](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/111043434863)

She prays before she eats.

Not every time, and it’s nothing obtrusive. She doesn’t evangelize or speak up or even fold her hands or bow her head, there’s just … a pause, sometimes, and her eyes close and she lifts her face up, and then her breath sighs out and she’s eating, and talking, and giving people shit, just like always.

She’s on her data-pad a lot, at night, more than could be explained by work. Especially for someone who hates the damn program the Alliance uses to file all the paperwork.

Not that he means to be eyeing her up, but someone he can’t help but notice.

Though he realizes soon enough that no one else has.

It’s not like it’s any of his business, but she seems to settle, at night, afterwards, and he can recognize something akin to prayer, or meditation, like the way the marines get into a zone when they’re sparring, or how his mother used to sing, eyes closed and her whole body leaning into each note.

The way it feels to fly between stars, endless and black and shining.

 

* * *

 

It takes awhile, after she’s back, to realize what’s missing.

She plans, she fights, she talks. A little brisker now, perhaps, her stance a little off, too stiff and tight, but she laughs at his terrible jokes, and he can still catch her eye across the cockpit and know precisely what she wants him to do, where to fly or what to say or who to distract.

But still.

Her laugh’s too short, a brittle echo late at night.

No pause, no lifted face, no slide of a stylus or shift of fingers across a ‘pad.

She’s lost.

They’re all lost, and not even the shift of his wings can help them, because the stars glint too brightly now, too sharp for ease, and the black no longer soothes, but freezes.


	17. velvet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [gdi sia](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/113366656783)
> 
> (For those not as familiar with Joker's dialogue, this is in reference to his request for a medal after rescuing you from the volcano on Therum ... he asks for gold, and Shepard can make a crack about having to sit through speeches, and Joker agrees it wouldn't be worth shaving his beard. It's pretty delightful. And then I went and made myself sad about it.)

Joker snapped the small box closed again, hiding the gleam of silver against blue fake-velvet with the smooth fake-silk of the cover. He took a breath, and opened it again.  


“Shame about the color.”  


He shook his head at the familiar voice. “Looks better on Alliance blue than gold would’ve.”   


Shepard put her hand to her heart, a smile curving her mouth. “Why Flight Lieutenant Moreau, did you just admit you were _wrong_? I should make a note on my calendar.” 

“Means you’d have to know how to edit the description field on the current day.” He grinned up at her, absurdly proud of the weight of the box in his hand.  _She nominated me for it._  “Do you even know how to do that? Ma’am?”

“I’ll ask Alenko.” Her eyes were so bright, and her weight shifted back onto her heels, forward again and up onto her toes. “He’d want to commemorate the occasion too.”  


Joker just rolled his eyes at her. 

She leaned down, closer to his chair, and he was suddenly painfully aware of the space between them. “And they didn’t even make you shave your beard.”

“Almost talked too long, though.” His voice was softer than he’d intended, softer than was probably safe, but she just smiled, small and slow, and straightened up again.

“They always do.”

* * *

The box was the same fake and shiny blue as all of his, but wider. Heavier.

Had more in it, than any of his.

He wasn’t sure why he’d been the one to end up holding it, but she had no next of kin, no one to fill the chairs on the dais. So he sat there, instead, next to the rest of the Normandy crew that weren’t still in med-bay, or dead, _all my fault, all of them,_ as Counselor Anderson spoke her eulogy, and it was too short, over too soon, and he had to stand, had to brace and balance just right for one step, two, until he could put it down again, place it on her empty coffin, to take the place of the body they’d never found.

Had to make his way back, sit again. Had to remember not to scratch at the itch of his bare chin, had to _wait,_ and it was not nearly long enough, would never be long enough, not for this. He waited through the music, and the salute, waited for the flag they folded and gave to Alenko, as the highest ranking surviving officer. 

And then it was over, and he had to stand, and turn around, and walk away.


	18. Normandy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [a drabble](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/132635932613) for fourth-age's giveaway ... Shepard's first sight of the _Normandy_ in ME2

It wasn’t right.

Lousy paint job.

Too big.

Entirely the wrong fucking  _class._

And yet the lines were right, sleek and strong and proud.

And yet her heart ached at the sight of it, a tightness in her chest that, for the first time since she woke up, felt right.

Felt human.

It wasn’t the  _Normandy._

She was gone, her corpse cold and broken and abandoned.

She was the lucky one. They’d died together, and only the ship had been allowed to stay properly dead.

This was something else, something new.

_Like me._

But maybe it could be something good.


	19. make me choose: mass effect or dragon age

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [indigorally](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/152607040143)

Joker:  "Second star to the left, and straight on 'til morning ..."

Shepard:  "Isn't that from a children's story?"

Joker:  "It shows up in old space vids sometimes too."

Shepard:  "And what? Now you're taking it as nav advice?"

Joker:  "Where do you think it would get us?"

Shepard:  "Lost. Why, where do you think it would take us?"

Joker:  "Well, depends on whose morning you were counting, wouldn't it? Ship's time? Alliance Central? Citadel? Turian Prime?"

Shepard:  "You're the one who came up with it, I think you get to pick. Whose morning do you want?"

Joker:  "Yours."

Shepard:  ...

Shepard:  "Well, as I'm wherever you are, and you're the one flying the ship, I guess we're using ship's time."

Joker:  "About four more hours _that way_  then."

Shepard:  "You are not really changing our heading to match an old vid's advice, are you?"

Joker:  "Well, you are the one who kept me up 'til oh-dark-thirty, that tends to have a negative impact on the logic."

Shepard:  "You're never logical."

Joker:  "I'll have you know you have hurt my feelings most profoundly with that comment."

Shepard:  "Need me to kiss you and make it better?"

Joker:  "Always."


	20. promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [for tigrina](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/166268326583)

He’s awake.

The aquarium lights are off, _everything’s off,_  except for him.

There’s an orange glow from the bathroom, and now that he’s had a chance to blink a few times, he can hear the water running.

Not just him.

His back aches, and he has to use the side-bar to sit up. 

_Yeah, yeah, we’re all off._

He can’t remember where he put his cane and he’s tired; it’s too fucking dark to look for it. He takes it slow, one slow shuffling step at a time, and leans against the wall to go up the stairs.

 _Fucking stupid open stairs._  

You’d think _warships_  would be better about that sort of thing. Even if people like him aren’t usually considered in the planning stages, all those damn oo-rah marines get injured often enough to make it a concern.

Distracting himself with blue-print antagonism gets him all the way to the bathroom door without having to think too much about what his feet are doing.

Or why she’s there in the middle of the night.

The door is as silent as ever, the lights off except for the emergency runners that work like night-lights. She’s just a shadow, curled in on herself in the middle of the shower floor, wavering and indistinct as the water pours around her.

It hurts down his spine to watch, thoughts heavy enough to weigh him down, heavy enough it’s hard to keep his neck steady; he knows why she needs the one spot where she can’t feel the walls too close or too much space, can’t wonder about the ceiling falling or opening, equally terrible, equal and opposite.

He can’t join her there, can’t sit beside her and wrap his arms around her and feel the water surround them both.

He _can’t,_  and it makes him want to punch something, but he can’t do that either, not if he wants to keep his hand, and he’s rather fond of his hands, so that’s right the fuck out.

He does the next best thing he can, strips and joins her, sitting on the bench against the wall.

He breathes in the steam and closes his eyes, and he feels her shift until she’s next to the bench, not _quite_  leaning against his legs.

He rests his hand on top of her head and feels her sigh.

_I’ll be right here babe, for as long as you need me._


	21. fingertips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [inktober prompt](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/166635815858)

They say the entire surface of the console feels exactly the same. They brag about the quality of the surface, cool and smooth and even. The controls are entirely customizable, entirely holographic; there are no _keys_ or _dials_ or _buttons_ to interfere with accuracy, with precision, with speed. The system, they like to say, is flawless.

They're wrong.

He knows exactly where he flicked his fingers across the reflective black surface to dismiss the order to evacuate the _Normandy._ He knows just the spot where he chose to ignore orders so he could work _just a moment longer._ He needed to do it, needed to keep the ship together for as long as possible, needed to give more of the crew a chance to evacuate.

Needed to keep them safe.

Safer.

Not even close to safe enough.

He could find it blindfolded, sliding his hands across the dash.

He can feel it against his skin, the barest different in texture, temperature.

He knows _precisely_ the spot that doomed Shepard.

He knows exactly how he killed her.


	22. cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [inktober prompt](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/166850744663)

She’d volunteered for this. 

Turned herself in.

Knew it was necessary, knew it was right.

She still almost broke out again that first night, the walls too close, too thin, not enough room to move, not enough between her and the space outside, not enough, too much, too little, too big, too small, too  _locked._

She’d almost hyperventilated herself into passing out.

_Wouldn’t that have been a grand fucking show for the security feeds?_

Luckily Matthews had taught her how to catch herself, how to slow down,  _how to breathe,_  all those years ago.

Thirteen. 

Fifteen.

Both.

_Fuck._

She knew they were watching. Didn’t have her own bathroom yet, still in transit, couldn’t even hide in the shower and have herself a good cry.

She knew she could break the locks.

It wouldn’t even have been  _hard._

Gods.

She was holding the chair arms too tight, her chest was burning, she made herself breathe again,  _again,_  had to think carefully about every single finger, one at a time, until her grip finally eased, and she cracked her knuckles to break that last lingering tension.

She couldn’t go to sleep.

Didn’t dare lie down on the bed, think about the weight of the ceiling, the space between her and it. Couldn’t tuck herself into a corner, walls too firm, too cold, the whole damn room made her afraid of caves and space both at once and wasn’t that just  _the stupidest fucking thing ever._

So she sat in the middle of the floor, and closed her eyes, and breathed.

And waited.

Didn’t dare think about who wasn’t there, who would never be there, who she might never see again.

Who she needed to see again.

Who she damned well better see again or she’d break down every gods-forsaken wall between them.

Tomorrow would be better.

Tomorrow would be better.

_Tomorrow fucking well will be better if it knows what’s good for it._


	23. power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [inktober prompt](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/166877397097)

It was weird, watching the feed when the marines were on a mission.

They didn’t move the same as they did on his ship. It wasn’t just armor, not just the weapons and the helmet and all the gear plugged in and humming. It was something in their… intentions.

Especially Shepard.

Joker had seen her before the  _Normandy._  

Everyone had seen The Butcher of Torfan, standing straight and still behind and to the right of the podium at press conferences, never meeting the reporters’ eyes, steady in her parade rest, her hat shading her eyes, the clean lines of her Class A’s never shifting a centimeter.

She never spoke, never answered a single question, never interrupted whichever PR officer or political Staff that was speaking.

She was always the only one anyone remembered.

And yet. If he hadn’t known it was the same person, he never would have recognized her when he met her in person.

Her stance, her stride, the way she balanced her weight when she stood. All different from the vids. Her voice too, now that he’d heard it. Different in utilities when she was on duty than civvies when she was done. Different when sparring, different when eating, different when cooking.

If he hadn’t known better, hadn’t seen her when she straightened her spine, when she changed from Shepard to Marine to Commander to Butcher and back again, he might have thought there were half a dozen different Shepards running around the ship.

Especially the first time he watched the feeds.

She moved there like she’d been choreographed, like she already knew where everyone was, where they would be, like she had already been promised victory so now she was just showing up to take it, to rain down fire and watch them burn.

She scared the enlisted, he knew.

Even before they’d seen her shift all the way up to Butcher.

Even before they’d seen that blue aura that still made so many in the Alliance flinch.

Even before they’d heard the sharp-edge of her smile in her voice after something she was fighting died. The smile after she killed them.

It wasn’t a  _happy_  smile in her voice, no, never that. But it was there nonetheless, and he saw the way so many backed away after hearing it.

As if all Marines weren’t adrenaline-junkies, didn’t crave the fight and the heroics and the whatever-the-hell it was Marines did to kill the time in transit that always fucked up his nice clean ships.

She was different though. Different enough to notice, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on  _how._  Especially since she packed it away so tightly when she wasn’t in combat, so far away from the way she moved on ship, on station, on leave.

Just meant he had to keep looking, didn’t it?


	24. indigo skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [N7 prompt](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/167233478487)

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen sunset while  _on_  the planet.

She didn’t think it would compare, not to this, not to the expanse of stars above them, the swirl of the planet below, the broad violet border between, so bright,  _too bright,_  until the light faded enough the filters on the screens faded out and they could see the colors, the swirls of purples and blues shot through with orange and red and white fading slowly,  _slowly,_  until there was nothing left but a dark indigo haze between sky and space.

“We’ve got a little extra fuel to burn.” She tilted her head to look at Joker, to catch the light in his eyes and lift of his chin, to take one quick breath and enjoy the way the sight of him always made the air around her seem brighter and sharper. “Want me to do a quick drive-around so we can watch the sunrise too?”

“That is a terrible waste of resources, helmsman.”

His eyes widened for a moment in surprise before he leaned forward, waiting.

She echoed him, leaned into the motion, unable to resist, the lift of his eyebrows as potent as the gravity well beneath them.

“The first time I see a sunrise with you,” she whispered, close enough she could pretend it was private, pretend it was safe, “it will be because we spent that time since sunset together, and I’m ready to enjoy the way the light changes against  _every_  bit of your skin.”

The soft grunt in the back of his throat did extremely inconvenient (if potentially pleasant in other circumstances) things to her awareness of how close his mouth was, and how many layers of clothes she was wearing. 

She could  _feel_  the heat beneath her skin as he exhaled, slow and warm. “You’re a very cruel woman, Flight-Commander.”

She turned her head just enough that she knew he’d hear her soft laugh, feel her breath against his ear. His eyes closed, and she knew he was just as aware of her as she was of him. “Isn’t that one of the things you like about me?”

She saw him smile, though the lines by his eyes were too sharp, his jaw too tense, for it to be any sort of simple happiness. “I suppose it is.  _Ma’am.”_

She felt her breath catch in her throat, a repeat of his same pained grunt, and she made herself stand and step back, made herself turn and start to walk away, though she couldn’t resist one look back over her shoulder.

He grinned at her, sharp and ruthless. “So, sunrise tomorrow then, Commmander?”


	25. shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [N7 Prompt](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/167236505852)

Tonight was a good night.

She’d caught the nightmares before they showed up, recognized the flicker in her peripheral vision that wasn’t really there, the whispers that were always from somewhere just around the corner, the extra tension between her shoulder-blades. She caught them  _before_  she fell properly asleep and they could drag her under, caught them and pulled herself out of bed.

Joker sighed dramatically at her when she brought out the card deck, but he was settled in his chair before she got to the table.

Sometimes they played cribbage. (She usually won.) Sometimes rummy. (Joker usually won.) Sometimes they just moved through war or speed, and she cared more about the sound the cards made, slick paper sliding together, the slap against the table, over and over again.

But tonight was a good night. 

Tonight they played casino.

Her father had played by slightly different rules than Joker’s mother, and they always had to “decide” whose scoring they were going to use. Sometimes she tried to bribe him with food, but he knew she’d share anyways, that half the fun was watching someone else enjoy it.

Sometimes Joker tried to bribe her with sex, which was even less effective since she knew perfectly well he liked his tongue in her as much as she did.

Well. Almost as much.

Orgasms were pretty good at confusing the nightmares.

She smiled as he stuck out his tongue and lifted his eyebrows and interrupted him before he managed some new terrible sexual innuendo. “Moreau rules it is.”

He blinked.

He smiled, slow and warm and wide. “Did you want me to pay my forfeit first?”

“Oh, I’m gonna kick your ass tonight.” She grinned back, a pleasant little flutter of warmth beneath her stomach an excellent antidote to any lingering shadows. “I’m going to win, and then you’re going to make me win  _again.”_

“At least twice, babe.”

She laughed, and started to deal.

Tonight was a very good night.


End file.
